Staying Power

“Does God have powers?” 

The 5-year-old voice asked in earnest, and I answered enthusiastically.

“Yes *Liam, God has all of the power!”

“X-ray vision?”

“Absolutely. He sees everything!”

“What about teleportation?”

“Of course! He is everywhere all at once!”

Demonstrating an impressive series of superhero moves, Liam made his exit. Quicker than a roundhouse kick, his mind moved to a new topic. Mine replayed the conversation in slow motion, praying that a little boy’s heart would catch a glimpse of the awesomeness of God. 

“God has all of the power!” I hadn’t paused a beat before offering the reply, but I’ve stopped more than once since then to reflect on how easy it was to speak of God’s omnipotence and how hard it is to rest in the reality of it.

Like Israel in the wilderness, I wander. Scavenging for tomorrow’s manna, I exchange the sweet sustenance of daily bread for a rotted stockpile of false security. As if less burden or more blessing could possibly produce the peace my soul longs for.

Like a spineless spy on the threshold of Canaan, I doubt. Cowering in the shadow of so-called giants, I trade the promise of rest for the familiarity of fear. As if worry, complaint and the furrows they make could lead anywhere but slavery. As if I’ll ever face a foe that isn’t dwarfed by the God of the Angel Armies.

Sometimes, the hardest thing in the world to do is stay.

To live in the present moment when the past comes calling or when the grass looks greener somewhere over there. To find yourself at the feet of a very-present God when there’s always ‘just one more thing’ and time rushes on like sand through an hourglass. 

Sometimes, the hardest thing in the world to do is stay.

When “having done all … stand” means staying put and choosing joy, though the battering ram keeps battering. When gaining new territory means building a homestead and living on it for as long as it takes. 

“There remains a Sabbath rest for the people of God.”–Hebrews 4:9 (ESV)

When you can’t catch a break or your breath, it’s hard to conceive of true rest, let alone experience it for yourself. 

“For whoever has entered God’s rest has also rested from his works as God did from his. Let us therefore strive to enter that rest …”–Hebrews 4:10-11 (ESV)

To strive for rest seems paradoxical. There has to be more to it than days off, self-care, Sunday naps and blue laws. Surely there is a kind of soul rest that will sustain us—not only through lazy rainy afternoons—but also when what is required is more than what we have to give.

“Thus the heavens and the earth were finished, and all the host of them. And on the seventh day God finished his work that he had done, and he rested on the seventh day from all his work that he had done.”–Genesis 2:1-2 (ESV) 

Sometimes, the hardest thing in the world to do is stay. To refrain. To relish instead of wanting or adding more. But the God of the Universe knew a finished work when He saw it. He showed us how to lay down the paintbrush, take a good look around, and call it good.  

It’s harder still to stay when things get hard. Who knows this better than the One who could’ve called upon legions of angels but instead endured the cross?

“After this, Jesus, knowing that all was now finished, said (to fulfill the Scripture), ‘I thirst.’ A jar full of sour wine stood there, so they put a sponge full of the sour wine on a hyssop branch and held it to his mouth. When Jesus had received the sour wine, he said, ‘It is finished,’ and he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.”–John 19:28-30 (ESV)

“It is finished.” With just three words, Jesus bequeathed to us the gift of rest—-the kind that comes from knowing that the work has already been accomplished. That there is nothing to achieve that hasn’t already been won. Nothing to obtain that hasn’t already been gotten. Even as we answer the call to take up crosses and follow Jesus in a Way marked by sacrifice, we traverse a well-worn path carved out by the Pioneer of our faith. 

Sometimes, the hardest thing in the world to do is stay by His side. Stepping only where He steps. Lying down willingly in green pastures. Happy to be led beside still waters or seated in the presence of enemies—nevermind the roar of distractions, the allure of excursions, or the pull of those who would prefer a different route.

Striving to enter God’s rest means forsaking all other pursuits entirely that we may cling single-mindedly to the Restorer of our souls. To do so is to discover that His grip strength far surpasses our own. That staying and resting is actually this easy way. The better Way.

The Master of staying, of dwelling, of remaining and abiding—our God is able to keep those at rest who commit themselves to His care. And the rest we find in Him is full of glory and purpose. It is teeming with adventure and abundant with fruit that lasts.

“Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing.”–John 15:5 (ESV)

Oh Father, I’ve seen Your power on display and yet I’ve underestimated Your power to stay—to complete what You’ve started and to keep me at rest. I’ve been preoccupied with my own problems and plans, but I choose to lay it all aside for the joy of clinging to You only. Please lead the way and teach me to stay. In Jesus’ name, Amen.